


Solipsism of Paris

by Tsume_Yuki



Series: Champions of Troy [3]
Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: AU of Absconding from Helen, Au of a fic, Don’t copy to another site, F/M, Though can be read without reading that one, in which the timeline is screwed six ways to Sunday, self insert as Elena Gilbert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:23:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22636072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsume_Yuki/pseuds/Tsume_Yuki
Summary: In which Klaus gets a letter from the latest doppelgänger, Elena is a reborn soul with too much information, and kidnapping a willing victim is probably one of Klaus' lesser crimes.
Relationships: Elena Gilbert & Klaus Mikaelson, Elena Gilbert/Klaus Mikaelson
Series: Champions of Troy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1528643
Comments: 139
Kudos: 806





	1. Part 1 - I

He stares at the television screen.

It’s Katherine’s face, he would know it anywhere, knows it like the back of his hand, like the air he breathes. It’s Katherine’s face. But the news-reporters call her Elena.

Elena Gilbert, missing from Mystic Falls for two weeks. A letter states she has run away but her family have reason to believe she’s been kidnapped by someone. No other leads.

Stefan sits himself down on the motel bed, the worn springs creaking beneath his weight. A girl that looks just like Katherine. He needs answers. He needs to return home, to do some digging and find out how a girl that looks so much like her but is human (has to have been human, give the vast array of childhood photos the news is cycling through now) exists. 

First though, he needs a drink. 

* * *

_May 25th 2009_

Slurping the last of her milkshake up through the hot pink straw, Elena ‘Ellie’ Gilbert rattles the paper cup in the vain hope there’s some more fluid to be found. 

There isn’t.

“Are you sure that influx of sugar is good for you, Love?”

The heat of Florida’s summer sun beats down something harsh on the back of her neck, not even the slightest whiff of a breeze to cushion its aggressive assault. She’s decked out in the shortest pair of shorts she could find that still preserved her modesty, coupled with a floaty crop-top that exposes far more belly than her father would ever be comfortable with her showing. Even with the high-heeled sandals, she’s still not quite the same height as her companion; a freak of nature who persists in wearing a long-sleeved henley and jeans despite triple digit heat. It’s almost as if he’s determined to announce himself a supernatural tourist. Because, while a Florida-man may be crazy enough to come out dressed like that in this heat, he probably wouldn’t have the money for the branded clothes Niklaus Mikaelson wears. 

“Pretty sure you’re supposed to get your blood sugar levels up before making a donation,” she snarks back, eyes rolling but lips twisting up in a smile regardless of the taunt. It’d been over three weeks now since she’s walked out onto the porch of her house to find the Original to-be-Hybrid standing there, waiting for her. Like the incoming roll of a thunderstorm, she couldn’t have stopped him if she’d tried. Instead, Elena had prepared, had submitted herself to the flashes of lightning and the downpour of torrents. It’d been a miracle that Klaus had allowed her to leave a letter at all. 

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Elena scans the surrounds for a bin to dispose of her empty cup in, fanning her face all the while. The hat and wig combo aren’t helping in this heat but Klaus had been insistent she wear them. Still is insistent, despite the fact they are trekking into protected swampland. 

“We’re relatively close to Miami; are we staying the night there?” She hopes so. There’s only so much sleeping in the car’s back seats or rough motel beds she can take. Klaus may be happy bunking down anywhere, but he’s a former Viking and she most certainly is not. 

Klaus laughs and says nothing, continuing his expedition through the wilderness and Elena hurries after him with a huff, shoving the empty cup into her backpack for later disposal. She’s not worried about the local wildlife; none could pose so much as a threat when she stands beside the Original Hybrid. Her moss and mud splattered boots are another matter entirely. She’ll need new clothes after this, shoes too. All on Klaus’ card of course. 

It’s not like she’s got any cash of her own right now.

Elena swears as her foot slips, reaching out with desperate hands ready to catch herself, cup dropped and forgotten. Only, the impact doesn’t come. 

Klaus scoops her up off the ground with one arm around her waist and she’s quickly deposited over one of his broad shoulders, hanging limp and useless. Like a hunter’s prey being carted back to the cave. 

As comparisons go, it’s not too far off.

“Can’t have you spilling that blood yet,” Klaus chirps and it’s positively sunny the way he speaks, the way one hand taps at her lower thigh. Elena responds by dragging her own hands down the hard muscles of his back. Yum. At least her kidnapper/blood-dependent/tentative friend is an attractive one, hot as hell.

...Yeah, reincarnation may have messed with her head a little bit.

“Love you too, buddy,” Elena muses, slipping one hand into his back pocket and giving a shallow squeeze. It provokes a laugh from her captor, who jostles her a little until her hand slides free.

“While I am aware you are a reborn spirit trapped in a young body you’re still growing into, Love, try to refrain from making any moves on me when we’re about to go meet new people. Sends the wrong impression.”

Elena leans back, wiggling her legs until she’s free enough from Klaus’ grip to wrap them around his waist, leaning back so she can look him in the eye. He’s not stopped walking either, utterly unbothered by her shifting weight. Once again, hot as hell. She’s in strong company, that’s for sure (not that she’d had any doubted to begin with).

“Does that imply you’d be willing to return those advances, Mr Mikaelson? Because I gotta say, I am loving the fact you’ve kept yourself in shape and with that face-” Elena cuts off, head tilting to a side and eyelids blinking furiously. A vast array of pictures flash before her eyes, a face as familiar as the one she sees in the mirror, coupled with the aged version of Tyler Lockwood’s attractive uncle, the one who used to babysit her before he skipped down. Huh.

“You’re gonna wanna put me down once you hit the clearing, and you’re gonna wanna move really fast.”

Klaus lifts an eyebrow, lips parting to question her but Elena places a single finger against his lips, smiling all the while.

“Trust me, m’kay?”

Miraculously, he does exactly that. Elena’s head spins with how fast she’s planted on her feet, gathering her bearings the exact second there’s a loud, wet crack from the clearing.

Half the gathering of people roar in shock but she’s too busy reorienting herself, head spinning ever so slightly as she turns to look at the group. Klaus stands in the middle, a body slumped on the ground before him. The dark brown hair is remarkably familiar.

Elena lifts one of her hands to brush at the wavy strands atop her own heads, sheered to a sudden stop before they reach her shoulder.

“Oh, Elena,” Klaus states, utterly unbothered by the fact he’s surrounded by a dozen angry werewolves and company, too busy laughing in absolute delight with the unconscious Katerina Petrova at his feet, “you do seem to be giving me all the best presents.”


	2. Part 1 - II

_25th May 2009_

Klaus has to knock six werewolves unconscious before they stop attacking him; Mason Lockwood is one of them.

Now, all the actual werewolves are ‘dead’, force-fed Klaus’ blood and mid-way through the transition. The rest of the humans cower on one side of the clearing and Elena feels bad. Bad with a capital ‘B’. Yeah, she feels really Bad.

She’s a selfish bitch though. Perhaps it’s genetic, perhaps it’s just how she’s always been and it had never actually had to surface in the life before this one.

She’s a selfish bitch because she’s quick to go and stand by Klaus’ side once he’s done setting up his werewolves for transformation, once he’s snapped Katerina’s neck a second time, just to keep her unconscious and out of the way. Part of Elena feels bad for that one; the woman is only doing what any sensible person would do, had only done what any sensible person would do when faced with death; tried to find a way around it. How could she have known Klaus’ true nature? How could she have known she’d be signing her family’s death warrants with that one act?

Setting up Elena as a blood sacrifice though? Yeah, that she can be pissed about.

Squatting by her ancestor’s face, Elena pokes at her cheek, lips pursed as she drinks in every detail before her. It’s her face, but it’s not a flat 2D picture or reflection; this is her face in 3D, high definition and it’s so creepily cool.

“Done admiring yourself, Love?”

“Never. At least the original doppelgänger had the decency to have a pretty face.” 

Cool fingers still caked in blood take a gentle hold of her chin, tilting her head back so that her face may be better exposed to the light. The sun is half hidden behind a great swath of trees, leaves weaving over each and allowing only the smallest sunbeams to grace the ground. One gets her right in the eye and Elena scowls, squinting against the bright light. 

“Pretty indeed. Let’s try and keep this face scar free, shall we?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Elena instantly insists, smiling all the while, as if she’d not tripped on the way here, as if she hasn’t somehow become the biggest klutz known to man since meeting Klaus. She blames the dying and coming back thing. That’s gotta mess with something up in the brain, right? “But hey, you do know I’m probably gonna soon like a fourteenth century maiden once you’ve taken enough blood for all of these guys, right? So I really hope you’re not tired of carrying me about everywhere.”

“If what you’ve said is true about the sire bonds, then I’ll have more than enough minors to cart dear Katerina around,” Klaus declares, staring down at the body that lays by their feet, something dark and dangerous in his eyes. Does Elena feel sorry for the other? Most certainly. Is she going to be getting in the middle of that? Er, no. No way in a month of Sundays. It’ll be a hard pass on that one.

“Naw, you’re keeping your arms open for me, that’s really sweet.” Elena wiggles her face free of Klaus’ grasp, running a hand along her jawline and grimacing at the blood that comes away with the motion. Great. Not that she doesn’t have a pack of baby wipes in her backpack, but the fact she has to use them at all is less than ideal. Huffing, Elena swings the bag from her shoulder, digging for the packet to clean her face up. She’s not a vampire, she’s a doppelgänger. The only blood she wants to be covered in at any point is her own; at least she knows that doesn’t have any nasty diseases in it. She’ll settle for some of Klaus’ blood on her at a push; chances are good if she’s got access to that, it’s because she needs it to heal.

Marching across the clearing to pout the soiled baby wipe into the werewolves’ improvised bin, Elena chances another glance over at the humans. They’re fearful, that’s true, but they seem remarkably well adjusted. Eh, they do run with a crowd of werewolves, she probably shouldn’t be surprised by this.

Sitting herself down on the nearest log, Elena pulls her notebook and a pen from her bag, twisting the cap free.

‘_Dear Mum and Dad and Jeremy,_

_It’s me again, writing to you from the arse-end of nowhere. I’m doing fine; working on my tan in the summer sun, so not much has changed from last year, I guess. Again, I’m sorry I couldn’t give you much warning of what was going to happen. I’ve already explained most of it, but given that I’m never in a position to get a reply from you (if you even would write me a reply), I guess I’ll keep repeating it. _

_I know about the vampires. There are werewolves too, by the way. It’s why I’m with Klaus. I was born the doppelgänger; they’d have come for me anyway. He’s got the largest need for me to be alive, to be happy. My bloodline has been tied to him for over a thousand years; it was always going to end with us meeting. _

_I just set it up so that he’d know the reason to he needs to protect me. _

_I am sorry that I had to leave. I miss the three of you every day, more than I can ever say. So yeah, I’m safe, healthy, and happy out here in the middle of nowhere. The next time I write you, I’ll probably in a new ass-crack on nowhere because that’s where werewolves like to hang out. It sucks, but there you go. (It totally doesn’t suck; I’m having a great adventure and travelling with the one guy who can probably keep me safe. I use probably because who knows what else is out there._

_Please don’t lose the pictures I keep sending you; I’m relying on you to keep track of my adventures; god knows I’d lose whatever I wrote down myself._

_Stay safe, stay healthy, and that’ll keep me happy!_

_Hugs and kisses,_

_Elena_’

She finishes her letter and four write-ups of their adventure so far when the first werewolf splutters back to life. Katerina’s neck has been snapped sixteen times. Klaus’ face doesn’t move in the slightest when he does it, but each time the deed is done, the huddle of humans collectively flinch.

“Elena, Love. Move your underaged ass over here.”

“Oh, haha, very funny.” Regardless of the comment chosen specifically to irritate her, Elena bounces across the handful of metres that separate the two of them, holding one wrist out before her.

(She’s never done this before. The one-time Klaus had drunk from her had been the night of the ritual, an action done with the express intent of draining her dry)

He takes her hand gently, pressing a kiss to her knuckles as werewolf-McGee coughs and splutters beside them. His thumb brushes over the sharp jolt of her wrist bone, the pads of his fingers seeking the thrumming of her pulse. With his head bent ever so slightly, with the burning gaze he offers her from beneath his lashes, Klaus could almost pass for a Disney prince about to confess his love.

Then he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of her wrist and the image is ruined.

Elena swears beneath her breath, hissing and spluttering from the startling pain (it hadn’t made it easier, knowing it was coming) and she drops to her knees as Klaus lowers her wrist, her hand still held tight in his own. He grabs at the werewolf’s hair with his free fingers, directing his mouth to her wrist with the action and a command of “drink.”

He’s the first of many.

* * *

Elena isn’t wrong; she does faint. Not quite like the fourteenth century maidens, though not quite like the drunkards the streets now house on a night. No, her eyes just slide shut and she stumbles forwards, right into his waiting arms.

She got through feeding all the werewolves though, so that’s a plus point. She’s probably lost more blood than he’d have liked though. The first werewolf- no, his first hybrid creation stares at him, having just broken Katerina’s neck for the twenty-first time since they arrived in this clearing.

“Keep doing that whenever she wakes up until I tell you not to,” Klaus instructs, kneeling on the ground to better support Elena. It’s not the first time today that he’s tearing into his own wrist, but it is the first time he’s done it without the intention of turning the intended recipient.

“Come on then, Sweetheart, drink up.” He presses his wrist to her lips, other hand cradling the back of his head. She’s semi-conscious, enough to recognise the blood for the healing agent it is. Her own wrist is already healing up nicely, though it’ll scar. He’ll have to keep opening her up on that wrist; no need to scar both arms, after all. Just until he can get organises enough for her to make blood donations the human way. Of course, if he’d thought ahead, they could have done things that way but he’d been… Hasty. In his defence, Klaus isn’t exactly used to things falling so effortlessly into his lap. If only he’d been checking the mail to his New York apartment more often, the he might have been able to kickstart this whole thing even earlier. That the letter from his little doppelgänger had gone unnoticed for months (that he may not have even seen it before she managed to get her fragile human self killed) is a dreadful thought. Nonetheless, he’s here now. She’s here now.

“Mmm, Klaus?”

“There she is,” Klaus all but purrs, keeping one hand to her back as Elena struggles to sit up. She peers up at him with blurry eyes set in a terribly pale face. Yes, next time, less than twelve werewolves. Either than, or he’ll find them with some pre-extracted blood already to hand. “How are you feeling, Love?”

“Like I’ve wormed my way into the Biggest Bad’s good graces.”

Klaus laughs, a surprised, bark of a sound that echoes in the clearing, a sound that draw the attention of all those present. Barring the unconscious Katerina of course.

“I’d say your feeling’s quite right there, Sweetheart. Up for a princess carry?”

“Oooh, definitely.”

Scooping Elena up into his arms (it’s ridiculously easy; girl’s probably not even nine stone, it’s like she’s barely there), Klaus allows her to curl close, to rest her head on the curve of his collarbone.

“You know, Beauty and the Beast was always my favourite Disney movie.” Elena taps at his chest with one hand as she says it, as if he should understand the referenced to a children’s movie. It’s not exactly something that’s on his to-do list right now, though he supposes he could indulge his wonderful little doppelgänger (third time must be the charm after all, their partnership is perfect; she’s his little seer, his little hybrid-maker, _his_ doppelgänger), what with all she’s done for him. After he secures her bloodline, that is. The clinic is their next stop once he’s got these minions whipped into a semblance of order. That and dealing with Mikael if what Elena has said about his current state of being proves true.

So much to do and it will be so much easier than he’d have considered it a month ago.

“You do realise this is the rest of your life right here, don’t you, Love?” Elena hums into his chest, one hand groping at a pectoral and Klaus smothers a laugh behind his closed lips.

“Stuck with this hotness forever? I can live with that.”


	3. Part 1 - III

_May 25th 2009_

Katerina Petrova wakes up with her heart hammering in her chest. She can remember what happened in fleeting flashes between each neck snap.

Klaus has found her.

She doesn’t stifle a sob, she’s far too good for that, far too composed. But fear does lace through her, zings in a way only it can, blazes in a way only one of the Original brothers could ever make it. She stays still, keeps her breathing shallow and it’s the first time her neck isn’t snapped within two seconds of her waking. It’s also the first time she wakes on a cushioned surface.

Slowly, so painfully slowly for a vampire, Katerina peels her eyelids back to peer at the room she’s located in.

It’s not a torture chamber, not that there are very many of those around in this day and age. Though if she’d expect anyone to have one in this modern era, it’d be Klaus. And yet... she’s not there. In fact, this looks remarkably like a hotel bedroom, all generic walls and pictures and a bedside phone that’s so clearly been destroyed.

She tries the window first, not even surprised when she can open it but not place a single limb through it. The en-suite is her next port of call; same situation. She can step inside the room, but exiting through the small window is a no-go. The final door... the final door she doesn’t want to open. She’s trapped worse than she’s ever been (trapped in a way only her nightmares have ever managed) and she knows what awaits on the other side of that door. She doesn’t want to open it.

She doesn’t have a choice.

The first thing she thinks is that this is remarkably less luxurious than Klaus’ usual haunts.

The second thing that registers is the fact her own face is staring back at her.

Of course. Elena Gilbert, her latest descendant and, finally, the next doppelgänger. While it’s less than ideal that she’s already here in Klaus’s grasp (gives her one last thing to bargain with), she can deal. After all, there’s still the location of the moonstone; that’s still a card she can play. Klaus might have his doppelgänger but he’ll still need the final ingredient to his ritual. Her main aim needs to be not ending up as one herself; he needs a vampire to perform it, doesn’t he? That’s her main selling point here, the location of the moonstone.

She valiantly ignores the fact he could just compel it out of her, ignores that she’s clutching at straws here.

The doe-eyed Elena stares at her, dainty hands balancing a camera between her fingers, thumb rubbing back and forth over the main button. It’s an old device, the kind that prints the picture. There’s three on the carpet around her already, each one featuring her smiling face. Vanity still haunts their bloodline then.

“Hey.” Katerina starts soft, starts friendly. Who knows how much the girl actually knows, after all? “Mind telling me where we are?”

“Miami,” Elena declares, a smile lighting her face as she rises to her feet, camera now on the coffee table and hand scratching at the back of her head. “It’ll be sooo good to sleep in a real bed for once.”

Before Katerina can begin unpacking that sentence, another voice chimes in, the very one that had dogged her since the day she turned, the one that has whispered dark, twisting promises of what will happen when he finally catches up to her.

It’s remarkably lighter than she recalls it being.

“If you had your way, Love, it seems all you’d do is sleep.”

Katerina dearly wishes to swallow her own tongue; it would be much easier to keep back any and all retorts that wish to escape her mouth right now.

Her clueless descendant lights up, twisting on her heels bouncing out of sight. Katerina could follow her path if she just got up and moved, if she acquired a better angle to peer out of this bedroom with. But she doesn’t want to get closer to the source of that voice.

In the end, as always, the curiosity and need to know wins out.

Katrina slinks closer to the doorframe, utterly unsurprised to find she cannot pass through this too. She does get a good view of Elena balancing on a stool by the breakfast bar, plucking up a sandwich (sausage and smothered in ketchup, god, even their tastebuds are the same, Katerina would kill for one of those right now) as she slouches across the worktop.

The view of Klaus sitting beside her sends a jolt of primal terror through her so potent that she stops breathing for a moment.

Those eyes, blue and green all at the same time, slide over to look at her, though there’s no surprise on his face.

“Ah, Katerina. You’re finally awake.”

As if he hadn’t been the one snapping her neck, putting her down again and again until it’s advantageous to him for her to be up and about.

“Laziness must run in the family then,” Elena muses and Katerina quickly adjusts her list on just how much the girl knows. She’s in Klaus’ presence and not terrified out of her wits, so she can’t know about the sacrifice.

Katerina had assumed the worst upon seeing her own face plastered over the news, had assumed her latest descendant had been kidnapped and delivered to Klaus. So, this isn’t a surprise. Irritating, yes, but no surprise.

Elena licks a splattering of sauce from her thumb and Klaus’ eyes follow it, his own food held between his hands, currently untouched.

It does not go unnoticed that this is a meal for two.

“You know, I’m well aware that you’ve been planning on handing me over to Klaus at the opportune moment for a sacrifice,” Elena begins around a mouthful of food and Katerina is re-evaluating again, mentally scrambling. “So, in the interest of being fair, I’ll give you the facts to work with too. The sacrifice is done, curse broken, I’m a key ingredient in the hybrid-making soup and I’m cool with that. That’s the basics, I think?”

And she turns to Klaus, head tilting to a side. He lifts one sock clad foot in response, planting it on her chair, toes working under her thigh.

“You missed how I’ve yet to decide how to properly punish my runaway doppelgänger, Little Love.”

* * *

Watching Katerina scramble is an absolute delight. He finally takes a bite of his own meal, watches as Elena polishes hers off. He pushes a second one towards her: she takes it ravenously, tearing into the bread and meat like she’s got two pints of blood to replenish. Oh wait, she does.

Klaus takes another bite.

Katerina’s still standing by the door to the room she’s now caged in, staring at them both as her scheming little brain whirls. He’s spent many decades daydreaming about how he’ll punish her when he finally catches up but now that he has... he can’t decide.

Until he can, he’ll cart her around with them. One quick compulsion to never run away from him, to never hurt Elena (that’s the most important one; he’ll get Greta to spell a Katerina-forcefield around Elena in the morning), and to protect Elena on the off chance he’s not around to do so; then they’ll be set.

Elena wobbles over to the coffee table, returning with her old-fashioned camera, the one he’d bought her (she’d left with nothing but the clothes on her back and he’d been in an exceptionally good mood upon retrieving his perfect little doppelgänger). She angles it up as Klaus smiles, cheeks half-puffed out with the sausage sandwich he’s only halfway through chewing. He knows it’ll be a ‘cute’ picture, exactly what Elena wants for her little scrapbook. She’s tilted it ‘Niklaus Mikaelson & Elena Gilbert, a Study in Kidnapping’. Apt. Amusing. Hardly appropriate but he doesn’t care much for that and neither does Elena, it would seem.

Is he purposefully ignoring Katerina? Perhaps. She deserves to be sweating, to be terrified.

(Just as he had been as the doppelgänger slipped through his fingers and his chance of breaking his curse had gone up in smoke)

“Yeah, that’s a keeper,” Elena croons, waving the photograph back and forth before taking her seat again, thigh coming to rest above his toes once more. It’s comfortable and now, with his curse broken, with the beginnings of his hybrid army, with the assurance of a defenceless father just waiting for him to slip a white oak stake (because by all the gods, Elena knows where to find that too), Klaus can just... exist. Can bask in his victory, the victory that has taken so long to arrive but has finally fallen perfectly into place.

He’ll take out his father, get rid of the last of the white oak, establish his hybrid army. Then, he’ll re-establish himself in New Orleans and wake his brothers and sister. He’ll welcome Elijah back into the thick of things with open arms and he’ll rule like a king with his trusted seer by his side.

“A keeper indeed,” Klaus agrees, eyeing the better Petrova doppelgänger. Ensuring her bloodline comes first, securing plans for the future. Klaus doesn’t doubt his ability to defend the girl, but even he cannot defend another against old age, not one he wants to keep human anyway.

Elena places the picture down to continue devouring her meal, utterly unbothered by the other Petrova woman who continues to watch them both quietly. Oh, Klaus is enjoying this, watching her panic and scramble to get up out of this hole she’s found herself in, but she keeps slipping down the sides, unable to gain any purchase. He’s won.

He’s won with the Sun and Moon Curse, he’s won with his hybrid army, he’s won with his capture of Katerina. And victory tastes oh so deliciously sweet.

“I’ve took the liberty of making an appointment for you at the clinic tomorrow, Elena.” He’d had to be... persuasive to get her in on such short notice but, after a few choice words, the receptionist had been bending over backwards to accommodate for him.

“Cool, can’t wait. Not tryna be rude, Mr Biggest Bad, but now that I’m fed and watered, I’m gonna go crash, m’kay?” She’s up and stumbling towards the other bedroom without waiting for his answer and Klaus rolls his eyes, rising to his feet a moment later. Scooping her up is sensationally easy; she only whines a little about the sudden motion.

Klaus tucks her into bed, brushing the hair back from her eyes so he can get another look at this perfect, victory-inducing face.

“Sweet dreams, Little Love. Try and make them useful to me.”

“I’d rather have a wet dream featuring you,” Elena mumbles, unashamed as she rolls to face-plant the pillow.

Klaus laughs, pulling the curtains shut before he strides out the room, reaching for his phone. They’ll be leaving after the clinic tomorrow, so he best organise his family’s transportation now.


	4. Part 1 - IV

_._

_26th May 2009_

_._

  
  


Elena wakes from the surgery (does it really count as surgery?) feeling more than ready to tackle the rest of the day. Once she’s out of the hospital gown, that is. Peering up at the ceiling, she ignores the doctor, ignores the glazed look to his eyes that signals he’s under compulsion, and looks for Klaus.

She’s utterly unsurprised to see him sitting on a chair in the very same room, though the light dusting of water droplets, the slight darkening of his hair does imply he’s been out and about instead of sitting in for her operation.

The rain still patters against the window, a soft, reoccurring sound. A natural lullaby.

“Hey, can we do a tour of Europe? I miss the food. Oh, and there’ll probably be some foreign wolves you can snatch up too,” Elena adds the last as an afterthought, getting up slowly, hands on the bed to support herself. She’s nowhere near as sluggish as she probably should be, as she’s expecting to be. There’s a very distinctive taste to her tongue, thick and coppery and- oh. It’s vampire blood. Klaus has given her a little boost. Naw, how considerate of him! Gathering up the upper half of her hair, Elena roots about in her pile of crap at the foot of the bed, peeling a bobble free. One the bangs are back and out of her face, Elena leaps off the bed, brushing down the cheap hospital gown before she bounces over to greet Klaus properly. 

“Perhaps in a few years, Little Love. Getting established here in the states it our priority.” 

“Well, darn. I suppose a few years isn’t too big a wait.” Holding out her hand, Elena wiggles her fingers, waiting. She knows Klaus has got something for her, though she’s unsure what it is. Only a vague dream (man, not even the good drugs can knock the mystic voodoo outta her) that he’d be handing something over. The near-pout on his lips drawls a giggle from her and Elena flexes her fingers that little bit more.

“Please and thank you!”

  
  


It’s a mug. A mug with ‘this bloodline shan’t die with me’ forcibly cramped onto the side; she fucking loves it. She just hopes it’s shatterproof because Elena does not have a good track record with cups. Maybe she can get Klaus to bully one of his witches into spelling it so? 

“Hey, I assume we’re going to go deal with your daddy issues now?” Slipping her hand into Klaus’, Elena swings their joined limbs back and forth, giant sunglasses covering her face. Coupled with her heeled sandals, ash blonde wig and racy red lipstick, she’ll hopefully look legal to everyone around them. And if not, well, then Klaus can send them on their way.

“You’re a very tactile creature, aren’t you?” He’s dodging her question and they both know it.

Elena swings their arms with a bit more force, fingernails tapping against the backs of his knuckles. The click of her heels echoes in the street, bag bouncing against her hip. She doesn’t feel like a girl who could have multiple children within the next nine months. And she didn’t doubt there’ll be at least one child before a year has passed; Klaus is bought but thorough on things as important as this. 

“And you, Mr Mikaelson, are as evasive as ever.” 

He smirks, angling his own sunglasses so they catch the light, shoulders rolling back to relieve the tension he’s accumulated throughout... well, however long it’s been building up. Like he’s carrying his whole world upon them. 

“Come on, Atlas. Sharing is caring. What’s on the agenda once the Original Vampire Hunter bites the dust. Or, becomes dust. Whatever, schematics.” Waving the word waffle away. Elena pauses by an ice cream shop, nearly getting her arm pulled from her socket as Klaus continues to match down the street. Thankfully, he does stop after jolting her, one eyebrow high. 

“Elena-“

“I’d like some ice-cream. It’s nearly summer and we’re in Florida. I am hot and dying for some toffee ice-cream. Please, Mr Hybrid?” 

They both get ice-cream. They sit on a bench, then Elena makes them move to a wall when the iron seating scorched the underside of her thighs. Freak of nature Klaus, who’s still in jeans (triple digits again today; what is wrong with him!), laughs at her. He’s so busy laughing, in fact, that a portion of his ice cream melts down his fingers. He licks it off and Elena tries not to stare.

But man, he’s so attractive. That tongue could be doing so much more interesting things than licking up ice-cream. 

“Alright there, Love?”

Elena hums, nibbling on the edge of her cone, licking the toffee flavoured residue from the creases between her fingers. “Oh yeah. Just imagining what else your tongue can do.”

At that, Klaus laughs again, turning to look at her with a smile on his face. The sun blazing in his hair, his green-blue eyes alight with mirth, that god-forsaken dimple; it doesn’t makes it immensely difficult to pretend every day will be like this. 

Nah, this is just the honeymoon phase of their working relationship. Soon enough, the serious shit will need to be dealt with and Elena’ll have to pull her big girl pants up to handle with it. Nothing says she can’t entice Klaus into said pants, nor that she has to give up this easy relationship they have. It’ll probably take some work to keep their lighthearted camaraderie going, but Elena’s not scared of a bit of hard work. 

“You are delightfully abrupt, Elena.” 

“Hell yeah, I am. After one life of watching my words and, ah, I guess the reassurance of having Mr Big Bad on my side has let the power go to my head. But you’ll drag me out of any mess I get into, right?” 

Klaus huffs a laugh, finishing the rest of his cone, licking the debris of sugar from his fingertips before he turns those pretty blue eyes on her. 

“The only messes you should be getting in, Little Love, are the ones I make and allow you to play in.”

“Sounds kinky.” She wiggles her brows and he laughs again, reaching for her hair but he thinks better of it. Probably for the best; if he’d tugged on a lock and the wig’d come off, there’d have been some uncomfortable questions being asked of them by the nosy buggers walking by. 

“Speaking of messes, we’re heading out of state tonight.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. There’s never been a better time than the present to deal with my, as you so gently phrased it, ‘daddy issues’.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Katerina is in a coffin of her own. Oh, she’s completely conscious, but compelled to remain there until he invites her own. Unable to make a sound, unable to call for any form of help or to trick others into releasing her. He’s still deciding but, as Klaus has taken to lovingly reminding himself, he has literally all the time in the world. Especially now.

The corpse as his feet is still smouldering, the white oak stake already nothing more than ash. He’s got a trio of compelled humans on the task of burning the bridge and the sign back in Mystic Falls, ordered to provide him with evidence of the destruction. He’s taking no chances here. 

A complete contrast to the daytime when she’d looked several years beyond her physical age, Elena now sits in the passenger seat of the jeep, the hood of her thin onesie pulled up and over her head. The stitched on eyes peer out of the windscreen at him, the girl’s face illuminated by the man-made glow of her smartphone as she scrolls through the news.

Toeing the corpse once more (just to ensure he’s really gone, just to ensure he’s really dead), Klaus makes his way back towards their method of transportation, flicking his hand to the three hybrids that are on standby. They hustle forwards, to box up the remains. Can’t have any silly little witches getting any ideas in their vapid airheads now, could he? 

Slowly opening the door, Klaus climbs into the drivers seat, patiently waiting until Elena lifts her head. The space between them is still for a moment, the silence comfortable, and, then, she finally looks up. Eyes dark, the pale skin of her face creating a deep contrast as she looks at him. 

“What’s up?” She tilts her head to a side, plucking one earphone free, curling it around the shell of her ear instead. Klaus cups the side of her face with one hand, thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone. It’s the first time in over five hundred years that he’s been able to look at this face and know peace. Know prosperity. 

“I’m not quite sure, Little Love, if you realise how quintessential a companion you’ve managed to make yourself into,” he confesses, smiling and he’s well aware there a thick layer of possessiveness oozing through his tone. The blood to make his hybrids, the visions to build his future. The amiable attitude to create a working relationship. 

“Was kinda aiming for that,” Elena muses, yawning, mouth drawn wide and pearly teeth flashing. “So, I’ve got a rough idea of what you want, I think. But I wanna make my intentions clear.” She shuffles around in her seat, phone off, gaze focused. “I want to live a happy life. I want to share that life too because I like people; friends, family, whatever. I have every intention of dating and maybe settling down. So if you you don’t approve of a person, you’re gonna have to tell me before I get emotionally invested. Because to be happy, I need the safety and security that I can only get from you protecting me, being the doppelgänger and all.” 

“Oh, Love, you’ll find there’s very few beings on this earth I’ll ever approve of.” 

“So it’s settled then!” Elena chirps brightly, hands clapping before her body and an angelic smile on her face. It’s remarkably at odds with his feeling of an trap has just closed around me and I didn’t so much as sense it’. 

“What’s settled, Little Love?” he asks, amusement warming his tone because isn’t it cute how she already thinks she can trick him? Hum, he must be in an extraordinary good mood to play along with this. 

“Well, if you don’t approve of anyone, I’ll just have to date you instead.”


	5. Part 1 - V

_June 23rd 2009_

Klaus can honestly say that he has never been so aggressively pursued by a woman who knows every key fact about him. Oddly enough, the vast majority of admirers shy away when they learn about the trail of blood and destruction he’s left in his wake, about the bloody swath he’s cut through witches and wolves and vampires alike. The ones that don’t, well, they’re usually too power hungry to keep around, or else, too stupid to allow them to remain, slaving away under delusions that they’re ‘different’ and they’ll be the ones to fix him. 

Elena isn’t trying to fix him. If anything, she seems perfectly content continue along with him hybrid making quest, following after him with her own odd brand of madness. 

Returning to the accommodation he shares with a travelling companion to find said companion laid on the bed, rose between her teeth and petals dusting the covers is a new one, even for him. 

“Where did you even manage to get all these flowers?” Klaus asks, inspecting the waste paper pin to find the de-petalled flower stems shoved into its metal casing. 

Still laid out on the bed and looking a little disgruntled that he’s not immediately fallen into the sheets with her, Elena swings herself up into a sitting position and eyes him. It’s a smug, teasing thing. It’s not a look that’s been directed his way in a long time, not since a face that looked exactly alike hers, in truth. Only, Katerina had been an innocent (compared to him anyway). She’d thought she was being smug and flirty, but she’d been a big fish in a small pond. Those little tricks hadn’t been enough for him. Klaus is more shark than fish, after all. 

“ You left me alone with a phone for room service in a room linked to your credit card. One of many, I’m assuming. I figured what we’re up to is a barter. My blood for your cash-cash money, my visions for your protectiveness. Seems a pretty fair and balanced relationship to me.” She winks, reclining again but abandoning all pretence of seduction, the facade melting back into the playful, friendly girl who’d sent him a mysterious letter about portraits. 

Speaking of which-

Klaus removed the newest sketchbook from his bag, a few sketching pencils following a moment later. 

He’d not been inspired by Elena’s scrapbook of pictures; he’s far more sophisticated than that when it comes to art, to drawing and painting.

But he had found her title amusing. Just enough to take it and apply his own twist.

“Doppelgänger: the quiddity of Elena Gilbert?” Elena reads, the funny lilt to her voice indicating she absolutely no idea what the word means. 

“Quiddity refers to a defining characteristic. You could call this book a documentary on what makes a successful doppelgänger.” Because that’s what she is, the successful one. The one to live, the one to take the hand she’s been dealt (the face she’s been gifted/cursed) and work with it. 

“Huh. Well, I was always the one doing the drawing in my old life; it’ll be cool to be the one on paper for a change,” Elena declares, relaxing back into the plush fabric of the bed, arms stretched up and over her head, spine arching with the motion. It lasts a single human breath before she release the tension, whipping the covers up and around her, head nestling into the pillow. Not exactly the figure drawing he’d been going for, but there’ll be years to capture that.

The soft controls of her face as she sleeps will make a fine first picture. 

* * *

‘_Hey Fam,_

_So, I’m seventeen now. Strange age; feel like I should be an adult and a kid all at the same time. Really weird. _

_You know, if I hadn’t run away, hadn’t met up with the Original Hybrid to bargain with him, I’d probably not have lived to see seventeen? Not when his lot found out about me anyway._

_I’m safe and alive and quite happy where I’m at (in the passenger seat with my seatbelt tucked in, chill out, Mum) though I know you’re probably so stressed and worried. It’s why I keep sending the pictures and the letters. I am a’okay. I’ve included ones that were taken in Miami a month ago now; finally talked Klaus out of the mega expensive hotels that day, you know, the kind where you feel like you’ll dirty the room just by being in it? I’ve got no idea how he manages to saunter through the place, tracking mud and blood wherever he goes._

_Not that he’s always covered in blood! He’s good to me, though I knew he would be, what with seeing the future and all. He’ll protect me. The only thing that’s probably more important than my doppelgänger blood and visions are his family and given none of them can die, well, that kinda sums it all up, doesn’t it?_

_Also, I’m done with high-school! I’ve included a diploma (did online courses; outstanding grades in everything I did, of course) for you to frame. Early graduate now in the family, aren’t you proud?_

_…You know, I can’t say I’m proud about your little side project, Dad. You know the one I mean. I’ve picked the side that’ll keep me alive; I can only hope you don’t hate me for it. _

_Off the depressing topic and to tie off; I love you all. Pass my love to Bonnie and Caroline too (and hell, Tyler as well, even if it has been years since I spoke to that little weasel). _

_I’ll try and ship you some gifts from my travels at some point. We’re eyeing up Europe for the future, so it should be good._

_Lots of love,  
__Ellie_’

“Ellie?” Klaus reads aloud, one brow curving high in question, handing the letter back to her. 

“It’s was Jeremy calls me.” There are no more questions after that, no soft ‘would you like me to call you Ellie?’ no ‘that’s a child’s name’. Elena carefully folds the parchment (the look Klaus had given her upon asking for paper to write a letter with had been hilarious; he’d found her several sheets of parchment a few hours later) and slides it into her side bag. There aren’t many people out on the streets of Charlotte, North Carolina at three in the morning. How Klaus had even managed to read her letter (after she’d shoved it under her nose as asked if he minded her referring to him by name, to which Klaus had shrugged with all the care of a god being asked if he minds the mortals’ worship) between the glow of streetlamps, she’s not sure.

“You know what yesterday was?” Elena asks, continuing before Klaus can even attempt to voice the answer, too eager to depart the information on him. “My seventeenth birthday. I’m a year past legal in England.”

“And a year until legal in America,” Klaus cheerfully chips in, twisting on his heels to take a sharp left down a back alley, forcing Elena to scuttle after him, nearly tripping on her own feet as she goes. She’s not quite sure what they’re here for, not quite sure why they’re in North Carolina (so close, just one state over from home in this life) but it must be important if Klaus dares bring her out and about here where the police force probably know her face.

“What’s a year to someone who’s lived as many as you?” she counters, bouncing over to his side again, looping her arm through his. Klaus considers the contact for a moment before allowing it to continue, tucking her arm a little firmer to his side.

“The age of consent had been a long time coming, Little Love. It’s only sensible that children don’t get dragged into situations that can disturb adults if it’s not done right and willing.” He tilts his head back and, if she weren’t any wiser to his tricks, Elena would assume him to be perusing a night’s sky that she cannot see from the light pollution. The tiniest movement of his eyes, however, lets her know he’s scanning their surroundings. Enemy territory?

“But mentally, you’re not a child, are you?”

“Woah, wait, does this mean I’ve got a chance?”

Klaus doesn’t answer her, just reels her suddenly through a little side door, leading their feet through the corridor that spits them out in the middle of a nightclub. The music thrums through the air, vibrates into Elena’s bones, the sound near hypnotic. There has to be a spell on this place, some kind of sound-cancelling one because she sure hadn’t heard anything from outside.

Klaus weaves them through the drunken revellers, pausing only when one particularly drunk idiot makes a grab for her and she has to preemptively slap his hand away.

“Head to the bar, Mate, you’re going to get me the most expensive bottle of scotch they’ve got, a coke for the lady, and then you’ll be buying everybody in here a drink. I don’t care how much debt it lands you in. Jog on.” And, well, given Klaus usual inclination for violence, that was probably the best revenge move.

Elena still wishes he’d have punched him in the nose but the night is still young.

“So, what are we doing here?” Elena asks as they take a seat in a booth Klaus vacates by simply stating his name and the fact he has a meeting here. Given how quickly people scatter, she’s going to assume that they’re either all supernatural, or all in the know. If they are supernatural, well, based on her own knowledge and visions, she’s surprised one of them isn’t an enemy Klaus has pissed off at some point. The odds are more than likely in truth.

“We’re here for papers, Love. Your idea on European werewolves may yet bear some fruit.”


	6. Part 1 - VI

_July 30th 2009_

It has been nearly three months since Jeremy’s sister disappeared. The term everyone is using is kidnapped but he’s not so sure about that. He’s read her letters after all, knows his sister like the back of his hand. Her strange conversations as a child, her irritating answer of ‘I saw it in a dream’ whenever she guessed a surprise he’d spent weeks trying to hide form her… well, it all makes sense now, doesn’t it?

That Dad’s confirmed the whole vampire thing (has even started training him up on how to hunt them) just certifies it. He doesn’t have time for much of anything now, too invested in the hunt for Ellie. It doesn’t matter that everybody else calls her Elena now; she’s always been Ellie to him and always will be. For as long as she signs off the letters meant for him by that nickname (doesn’t matter if she addresses it to the ‘Fam’, if it’s signed Ellie, it was meant for him), she’s Ellie. His ridiculous big sister who can see the future and who’s blood is so important the strongest supernatural in the world has put her under his protection. Aggressively so.

And it must be the strongest supernatural in the world; Jeremy had heard his parents’ arguments after that letter last month, heard when Dad had come clean about what he was getting up to at his club thing, had heard Mum rage and sob over it all. He’d been there when Dad had returned from what must have been an interrogation with a vampire (how, Jeremy isn’t sure, he just knows that Dad managed it) as pale as a ghost. He’s heard how this Klaus is very real, that vampires (creatures of the night that kill for food and fun) violently flinch away when his name is mentioned.

He also learns that Ellie is adopted, a nugget of information revealed when Dad has to call Uncle John (Ellie’s real dad, what the fuck) for a vial of his blood. Because apparently, Ellie’s friend Bonnie has a witchy grandma. And now, Bonnie’s learning about all the supernatural shit in the hope she can help get her friend back.

Only, Jeremy isn’t so sure they should be trying to get Ellie back.

Oh, don’t get him wrong, he misses her like crazy. His sister who’d punched Tyler Lockwood in the nose at the age of nine, breaking off her friendship with him upon learning he’d been bullying Jeremy (Mrs Lockwood’s still upset over the whole thing; Jeremy’s sure she’d had Ellie pegged as her future Daughter-in-Law). She means the world to him.

Which is why Jeremy’s almost sure she’s in the right here. The more he hears about doppelgängers (and wow, does Sheila Bennett know her stuff), the more worried for Ellie he’s become. Werewolves have a reason to want her dead, vampires will want her dead so she can’t turn the tables in their stand off with the wolves, and witches can use her blood to empower themselves. It’s fucking crazy but that’s his life now, it seems.

Perhaps the only good thing to come of this is the fact he’s ended up away from Vicky and the rest of the stoners. He’s got too much on his plate to be off getting high now. Instead, most of his time is spent with Bonnie as she learns her craft, feeling an angry tension build up in his stomach.

Uncle John’s blood hadn’t worked, which means Ellie’s under some kind of cloaking spell according to Sheila Bennett. Which leads their only leads to her as the letters she sends.

There’s no point in putting the vampire’s face out there on the news, Shelia had advised them. Not when it’s this fearsome Klaus guy, who apparently has so many connections he could just get the case snuffed down into nothingness. Unsurprisingly, there’s very few people who are willing to fuck with a thousand-year-old vampire.

So, all Jeremy can do is stare down at the picture that contains two faces, one familiar, one foreign. This Klaus guy doesn’t look like much in truth. Hell, he can’t be any older than twenty-one if Jeremy had to take a guess on his physical age. Curled hair in a dirty blond and blue-green eyes; the photo could probably pass as two teenagers running riot, out on their own an adventure.

Ellie’s got a massive pair of sunglasses on the top of her head, lips pursed and cheeks sucked in, eyes crossed as if she’s attempting to look at the tip of her nose. Beside her, this Klaus guy that all the other vampires are scared of looks fondly exasperated by her behaviour.

It’s the first picture they’ve got of the kidnapper (the protector she herself contacted; Ellie insists in her letters) and Jeremy is really struggling to see what it is about this guy that terrifies other vampires.

More importantly, the background of the picture is that of an airport; they could be anywhere in the world by now.

He leaves the letter out for Mum to read, given she’ll be home first. He’s halfway down the street, heading over to Bonnie’s place, when another guy falls into step with him. He’s tall and the kind of pretty Ellie’d probably like.

Jeremy’s never seen him before in his life.

“Hey, you’re Jeremy Gilbert, right?” But, apparently, he knows him by his face alone.

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” The unsaid ‘I’ve never seen you around here before’ lingers between them and the guy sighs, running a hand through his hair and looking down the street for a moment. Like he’s expecting someone to be watching them or something.

“My name’s Stefan Salvatore. I heard about your sister and I want to help.”

“Doesn’t everyone? You’re fresh out of luck, Pal, I doubt you can help me.”

“Not even if I knew a girl who looked just like her over a hundred years ago?”

* * *

“Jeremy! You can’t just invite a vampire inside your home!”

Bonnie’s heart is beating out of her chest with the sense of ‘wrongwrongwrong’ that’s vibrating through her. It’s one thing to know about vampires, to be trained up by Grams (all because Elena’s gone, all because she got taken by a vampire) and it’s another thing altogether to meet one herself.

She knows they’re getting a new kid at school when they go back after break; Caroline hasn’t shut up about it. Not that Bonnie sees much of her now, what with studying with Grams to try and get Elena back.

But this ‘Stefan Salvatore’ isn’t a kid, is he?

“Bon, he’s here to help. Stefan knew another doppelgänger before all of this went down and he’s a vampire; maybe he can help.” Its so, so difficult to ignore Jeremy when he’s looking at her with those pleading puppy eyes. God, she’d always made fun of Elena for dropping everything to help her kid brother but, now that she’s on the end of those watery eyes, she can kind of understand why her best friend was like that. Will be like that, when she gets back.

Bonnie eyes the vampire who eyes her back, earnest goodwill written all over his attractive face.

“Fine,” she gripes, pulling her hair back into a ponytail, all the while silently promising that she will not be inviting this vampire into anywhere. “But one wrong move and I’m setting you on fire.”

“That’s fine. I don’t drink from humans anyway. Stefan Salvatore.”

“Bonnie Bennett. Now, what do you know about these ‘Originals’?”

From the incredibly blank look on Stefan’s face, Bonnie rather gets the feeling he won’t be much help at all.

Typical.


	7. Part 2 - I

28th January 2011

Breathing in the sweet sea air, Elena Gilbert lays her torso across the balcony railings and just observes the ocean waves lapping at the shore below. They’re in a hotel in Greece, the last stop in their grand tour of Europe and Asia (not that they’d really been planning on Asia but one of the wolf packs had ran and Klaus does so hate to be tricked, does so hate it when his prey gets away) before they return to America. She’s not quite managed to shift the American accent, what with never sticking around a country long enough to start picking up the language. Though, with any luck, she’ll have a bit of twang to her speech now, having spent near two years in Klaus’s company… Hey, a girl can hope, right? His accent (not quite English, but certainly not American) is fantastic. It does naughty things to her insides.

“And just what are you doing, Love?”

Tilting her head back and to a side, Elena grins at Klaus before twisting her whole body around, perching her ass on the railings instead.

“Fantasising about your voice. The usual.” He rolls his eyes and Elena bounces forwards, flicking her hair back and over her shoulder. She’s getting a fair portion chopped off the second she’d back in America; it’s grown a like a weed while she’s been sunning herself in Southern Europe (and freezing her tits off in the Northern half) and is desperate need of a cut. She misses shoulder length.

“Near two years and you’ve still not thrown in the towel?”

“Why would I when your eyes follow me so?” Elena snarks back, folding one leg against the other solely so the fabric of her shorter than necessary nightgown hikes up her thigh. As predicted, Klaus’ eyes linger on the new strip of freshly exposed tanned flesh. What started as her semi-joking retort of ‘dating him’ has evolved into this stupid little cat and mouse game in which neither of them are willing to back down. Elena rather gets the feeling the only reason he’s not fucked her six ways to Sunday now is because he’d be admitting defeat, given he’d started off by ignoring her advances. Probably assuming it was small town ‘I’m finally free’ craziness.

She’s seen plenty of Europeans paraded about before her eyes and, now that she’s not one of them, she can see the appeal.

But Klaus is it for her.

She’s come to that conclusion over their travels, spending time with him and realising that, what had started as a joking ‘it’ll probably never go anywhere’ suggestion on her part has, in fact, resulted in genuine attraction her part. She likes the way he looks, but she’s liked that from the start. That’s nothing new.

What is new is the fact she likes how he always puts on more suncream than he needs to. She likes how he’ll regale her with the history he’s lived through whenever they’re driving (and there’s something about him handling a stick shift car that’s extremely sexy). She likes the fact he picked up that she doesn’t like vegetables cut into huge chunks and he’s adjusted how he prepares meal on the handful of occasions he actually cooks. And, though it irritates the fuck out of her, she’s somehow come to like the fact he sleeps with the window open too. It’s utterly mad.

So, the seduction game has been upped by three hundred percent. It’s almost to the point she’s considering bathing in scotch to entice him over. There has to be some kind of breaking point; it’s clear he’s attracted to her, after all. She’s got a face he was in love with a thousand years ago, but she’s also got a bomb-ass personality that he likes. She knows he likes her, otherwise she’d be spending her days a compelled, mindless blood-bag.

“Even the likes of I am susceptible to teasing, Love.”

“Then why am I still waiting on a kiss?”

Oh, they’ve shared kisses before, little on the cheek greetings when they’d hit up France and the gesture had left the country with them, sticking like a limpet mine.

Both she and Klaus know she’s not referring to those kisses.

“Our flight leaves in three hours.”

“Never took you as the duck and distract type.” And there it is, the twinge of muscle in his jaw as she calls him out on his avoidance. What other move does he have, barring giving in? 

He knows she’s serious enough about her quest to win his attentions that blatantly bringing another woman back with him would break her heart. He’s probably assuming a heartbroken Elena would be less inclined to sharing her visions and he’d be one hundred percent right. Oh, if he genuinely wasn’t interested in her, then she’d have sucked it up and wouldn’t have batted an eye at him having a different girl every day.

But he is interested. She can tell. He knows she knows and she knows that he knows that she knows. It’s almost a dance. They’re flittering around one another, one of those stupid dances where you get closer and closer but never actually touch.

“Oh, Love, I could distract you in so many ways it would make your head spin.” And suddenly he’s there, all up in her personal space and Elena stares up into those eyes, the same shade as the ocean to her back. The lack of shirt that has accompanied their hot climate is usually a blessing but, right now, she can smell him all the more clearly for it and it’s making her head spin. True to his words then.

“I- You- Yes. Distraction. Yes please.”

Klaus laughs, the sound thick with amusement, as he steps back from her. He’s still staring into her eyes though and Elena is a’okay with that. He can stare as long as he wants, as long as she gets to stare back.

“So, er, where are we going?”

“Well, you did say things are going to get exciting there soon enough. You’ll be getting your first look at New Orleans as I take it back.”

“Right… and we had such a good mood going on between us two as well.”

Klaus does not take the news that Marcel has survived, survived and thrived, well. 

Sitting atop her suitcase (now loaded with the chocolate body-spray she’d been considering applying an hour ago but has since thought better of), Elena continues to wiggle the zip around the edge, ignoring the shattering sounds of all the pottery within the house sailing through the air and becoming well acquainted with the walls. Or the floor. Or the roof. Honestly, she’s not sure what Klaus is destroying his best Greek vases against, but Elena’s well aware of her fragile humanity enough to not go looking for answers.

Instead, she checks her wristwatch a second time, noting that it’s been twenty minutes since Klaus began terrorising the villa. His villa, some poor compelled sap’s villa, who knows.

After another ten minutes pass, Elena plucks up her courage, her suitcase, and her trusty camera. Then, she proceeds to make her way down the stairs.

She finds Klaus in the entryway, the shattered remains of pottery scattered about his feet like ash from his volcanic epicentre. He’s facing the door, shoulders taunt and stiff, hands fisted and thick blood dripping between fingers like molten lava weaves through crags.

“I raised Marcellus as my own,” Klaus states, his voice low and slow. It’s far from the first time she’s seen the bubbling eruption of his anger (again, those wolves that ran made an incredibly poor choice), but Elena still watches warily. “Raised him like a son. I gave him everything, taught him, loved him. That he would not seek us out, that he would take what I had built and call it his own…” Klaus trails off, head tilting up to inspect the ceiling and the spears of glass that hang like stalactites. It seems he took out one of the mirrors too then. Wherever he’s going with his speech, he finishes the next part internally, slowly turning to look at her, to inspect the length of her body, the suitcase she clings to. The stupidly big holiday hat he’d purchased for her at the market, despite mocking her fondness for the kind, stating they make her look childlike, something she’d been against from the start of the acquaintance.

“And, unbelievable, stupidly, you are still here, Love.”

“Where else would I be?” Elena asks for it’s the first question to spring to her mind. She is the doppelgänger and the Original Hybrid needs her. She’s Elena, and she needs Klaus. It’s that simple to her, she’s not quite sure why he feels the need to comment on it.

Klaus walks over to her, places his wet, warm hands on her shoulders before he apparently thinks better of it, reeling her into a hug. Given that she still stands on the first step of the staircase, they’re at level with one another now. He rests his head on her shoulder and Elena returns the gesture in kind, one arm wrapping around his back because she’s not foolish enough to let go of her suitcase now. Getting her toes crushed before they fly would be terrible.

Klaus doesn’t say anything as he draws back, just takes her head in his hands and places a soft kiss to her forehead. Then, he walks off without a word.

* * *

Though the plane is delayed for twenty minutes to ensure they get on board (leaving a great deal of passengers very unhappy but they should be delighted, quite frankly, that he’s decided he doesn’t need an in-flight snack) but they’re flying soon enough.

Staring hard out of the window, Klaus drains his second bourbon of the flight, aggressively ignoring both the fact they’ve only been in the air for twenty minutes and the worried look from the air hostess. He’s not in the mood to play charming right now; if they’d been on American soil when Elena had told him Marcellus lived, he’d have been tearing along the highway at an excessively fast speed straight to New Orleans. As things stand, he has to settle for the speed of an airbus to cart them across the Atlantic Ocean. Certainly, it’s faster than his last crossing. Calmer too, given the siblings he’s completing the crossing with are all in boxes. Katerina too. He’s still umming and ahhing over what he should do with her, too busy building his hybrid army, too busy trekking across Europe with the better doppelgänger. Speaking of which-

He flicks his eyes to Elena, finding her hunched over her scrapbook, the third one in the series: A Study in Kidnapping; A Study in Hunting (yes, those foolish wolves that had fled, the ones they’d hunted across Asia for a few months); and now A Study in Resistance. He assumes the last one refers to his weakening attempts to stand against Elena’s seduction efforts. At eighteen, nearing nineteen, she’s a beautiful woman, though he’d not had any doubts she about that. Can be nothing but, given her doppelgänger status. Not even a bad haircut would change it. And he’s not bothered by her flirtations. Welcomes them, in actuality. She’s serious about it, about the idea of a relationship with him, despite exposure to his many different, volatile moods over the course of their acquaintance. Were he sick of them, of her, then he’d have made it blatantly clear by entertaining other women. 

He does find her attractive, does appreciate the little sunshine her personality brings. The variety of seduction techniques are endlessly amusing, endearing too. He’s always enjoyed a chase and it’s a novel experience to be on the opposite end of it all, to slip free just as Elena thinks she’s managed to trap him. 

The bathroom incident is burned into his mind. 

Klaus watches her stick the latest picture in; it’s the one of them on the beach upon which the villa they’ve just left was located. She’s captured the both of them on the sand, suncream not yet rubbed into her cheeks and one of those stupidly large hats on her head, while the image of himself does have suncream correctly applied to his skin and his necklaces glimmer in the sunshine. With it being January, he probably could have gotten away with wearing a shirt. But, just as Elena is aware of how his eyes follow her, he’s not blind to the effect he has on her too. She’s far from the only person to watch him, to let their gazes linger. And he’s over Tatia, has been for centuries. 

It doesn’t change the fact there’s a little thrill there when she does stare. His little reborn doppelgänger. 

‘Seduction attempt #207; failure.’ Elena writes, handwriting blocky and simple in a way that would have seen her a laughing stock a century ago. Now, it’s the desired neatness elementary school teachers are supposed to have. 

He wonders how long it will take for the calligraphy-like style to experience a resurgence. 

He waits until she falls asleep (it’s an Elena-travel thing; she’s nodded off in the car and on boats before, she nodded off on the flight over here too) and then he makes his own comment on the page. He does that every so often, though he cannot say for certain if she ever actually checks the page once she’s done with it. She’s made no changes nor spoken of his little remarks. It’d another point they don’t openly talk about, just step around, circling but never nearing. 

Klaus tucks her sleeping form in with the plush blankets of first class. If he compels another passenger to hand over his pillow so Elena may wake without a crick in her neck, then there’s no one around capable of calling him out on it. And then, once she’s nestled up warm and comfortable, he draws his own sketchbook out, a thin strip of hard charcoal balanced between his fingers. It’s still the first book, the one with Elena’s sleeping face on the front page. Unlike her, he doesn’t have as much time to sit down and work on his book. He also likes working large, though she’s yet to notice some of the abstract paintings he’s completed all house colours drawn from the palette of her skin and hair, from the deep chocolate brown of her eyes. 

Klaus captures the soft wave that frames her cheekbone with wide, sweeping lines, keeping the thin hair of her lashes and brows sharp with the tip of the charcoal. 

The hostess asks him how long they’ve been together. Klaus responds that it will be two years in May. Hardly inaccurate, but not in the context she was asking. He places the pad of his thumb in the corner of her mouth, drawing it across her lower lip, soft and slow. He’s not surprised when she sucks the digit in a moment later, hot tongue brushing against his skin once before she release him. 

“Morning,” she chirps in a soft whisper, all bleary eyes and forcibly suppressed yawn. 

A quick look out of the window confirms his thoughts; it’s the dead of night. 

“I suppose it’s morning somewhere in the world,” Elena muses after following his line of sight, shuffling about until she’s sitting up. The wide collar of her shirt slips to a side, exposing the curve of her shoulder, the sharp jut of her clavicle. The pale oval of his bite, scarred into her flesh from the night of the sacrifice. He traces it with own finger, following the curve that resides upon the column of her neck.

“That won’t be the last hickey you give me, right?” Elena asks and Klaus wishes he were in the mood to laugh at the statement. It’s the subdued mindset that has him running his hand up to trace the shell of her ear before departing to take a gentle hold of some hair, tugging gently. 

“Not until we get to New Orleans, Love.” 

“Not until- woah, wait. Is this you promising to take me on a date in the town you built with your own bare hands?” A bit of an exaggeration, but she’s not completely incorrect. He did indeed help with some of the building there. 

“One date, Love. Best impress.” It’ll give him the chance to get the lay of the land there while on a date; few vampires would have survived Mikael’s wrath as he hunted his bastard son down, so there will be few to recognise him by face alone. And if Marcellus is the one he should run into, well, Klaus wouldn’t be the one in danger. 

“I’ll make the best damn impression you ever did see,” Elena promises with a whisper and Klaus doesn’t doubt the sincerity of her words. The cat and mouse game has been fun, but it is about time they added a little twist to it. 

Yet, the twist will just have to sit for the slightest bit. He’s going back to New Orleans, Mikael is dead and his city is ripe for the taking.

It’s only right that, when he regains it, it is with his family by his side. The entire family.

That means finding Elijah. And probably suffering a punch to the face too once he reveals the truth about their siblings’ current states of existence. That will be less than ideal. He is itching for a fight; his brother can tide him over until he reaches New Orleans.

Given how Elena’s face was plastered around the country, there’s every possibility that his brother believes he’s broken the Sun and the Moon Curse. He’d be right, of course, but if he believes the doppelgänger to still be alive is another thing altogether. Then, there’s Katerina in her coffin to contend with... well, she will make a spectacular body double for Elena if needs be, and having a vampire to hand that he can send into New Orleans to do his dirty work could be a bonus. 

“So, New Orleans, huh?” 

“Soon enough, Little Love. First, we find Elijah.” Which shouldn’t be too difficult, he’ll only have to follow the purchase trial of expensive liquor and tailored suits. Predictable to a ‘T’, his dear brother. And then, once he has Elijah on side... then the retaking of his city can begin. 


	8. Part 2 - II

_February 12th 2011_

“I know this one; they’re in Greece.” 

Jeremy Gilbert is sixteen years old. He’s best friends with a witch called Bonnie and a vampire named Stefan. He’s also been acquainted with Elijah Mikaelson for the past year and a half. The other vampire had turned up only a month after Stefan did, scaring the shit out of Shelia Bennett who hadn’t been able to make him leave. Apparently, that’s just how Originals work. They do what they want and the best of luck to anyone trying to stop them. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, it doesn’t work. The other one, well, they’re usually up against each other and just end up clashing horns, unable to gain any ground on one another. Or, that’s how it used to be in the past.

Right now, Elijah doesn’t seem too sure if this Klaus guy’s curse has been broken or not, given Ellie’s still alive. That, that’s something Jeremy takes comfort in. Though he doesn’t think Ellie would be stupid enough to go and play ball with a fucker trying to kill her, he’s also well aware that his sister knows more about the world than she probably should. It does explain how she always won at rock-paper-scissors when they were kids. What worries him about all this is that if this Klaus guy has broken his curse, that makes him stronger than Elijah. Elijah who can take out other vampires with a flick of his hand, Elijah who can listen to Shelia Bennett’s warnings and the casually disregards them if they stand before his end goal. The Elijah who can compel another vampire (and hadn’t that scared the shit out of Stefan’s asshole of a brother?).

“Greece?” Jeremy repeats, inspecting the latest picture that Ellie’s sent. It’s a few days old but Elijah’s a busy man- er, vampire. He only rolls into town for a day every fortnight, all undercover, of course. To anyone outside their little circle, he’s Elijah Smith, historian. Mum and Dad thinks that it’s cute that he’s getting involved in the family history (and some vampire hunter Dad is; he’s not so much as twitched upon meeting Stefan and Elijah, the oldest vampire of them all). Aunt Jenna just thinks he’s cute. Elijah, that is. Jeremy has long left the definition of ‘cute’ for his aunt, given he’s no longer toddling around after her with a lisp.

He looks at the picture again, feeling that familiar ache in his heart. Ellie looks good, all tanned and smiling happily in her sundress. She’s got one of those stupidly big hats she’s been wearing since she was a kid, matched up with a pair of sunglasses. Klaus stands beside her; it’s been strange, watching him become more and more involved in the pictures over the years. Three months ago, there’d been one where Ellie was mid-piggyback with the vampire. Elijah had stared at that one for a long time, something indescribable to his features.

“Yes. Niklaus bought that particular vase during the time of the Khmer Empire.” God, Jeremy has so many questions for this guy. Is it just a vampire thing, to be able to remember anything and everything? Or is Elijah just that knowledgeable?

“Well, it’s little more than a shattered relic, according to Ellie’s latest,” Jeremy muses, waving the letter about until Elijah accepts the piece of paper, scanning over the words and an unbelievably fast pace.

“Your sister continues to make no allusions towards her impending ritual, nor her magical survival.”

“Why haven’t you gone after them?” It’s a question that’s been bugging him for months. Elijah has more resources than Jeremy could imagine, along with a motive. When he’d asked, back when they’d first met, Elijah had confided in him that he was hunting Klaus as he’d stolen his siblings from him. And, while the thought of more vampires as old as this guy does freak him out a little, Jeremy had found himself bonding with a kindred spirit.

“I have been hunting Klaus for decades. In truth, Jeremy Gilbert, your sister’s regular, one-sided correspondence is the most reliable method I have of keeping tabs on Niklaus. It is for this exact reason I know a plane left Greece two weeks ago with a couple on board in first class resembling the two. The air hostess was all too happy to share the gossip once we began conversing.” He honestly can’t tell if this is Elijah’s round about way of confessing to compelling her, or if he really is just that charming. Could be one or the other, in truth.

“Well, if they’re back in the country, maybe they won’t be under a cloaking spell anymore?” The Original vampire frowns, the look upon his face making it blatantly clear he doesn’t believe this will be the case. Given the vast array of tracking methods both Bonnie and Elijah’s witches, the Martins, have tried and failed to apply, Jeremy can understand the frown. Nonetheless, his supernatural companion rises from his seat and brushes imagined dirt from the seat of his pants.

“I suppose we should go and see the lovely Miss Bennett then.”

* * *

“Is this a joke?” Elena is hunkered down in the front seat of the jeep, an upgraded version of the one they’d been tumbling about the American countryside in back when they’d first met, back when Klaus had just begun building his hybrid army. Across the road (far, far across the road), she can see her brother and Bonnie walking down the street with two vampires. Both familiar, though one more so than the other. If only because her team-up with Klaus means that, in her future, Elijah has always been lying in wait.

Sitting beside her in the driver’s seat, Klaus seems just as confused, though how that can possibly be true when he’s the one who has been keeping tabs on Elijah, Elena isn’t sure.

They’re both in disguise, her more so than him. The blonde wig she wears this time is a far more natural one instead of the usual bleach blonde, green contacts in her eyes and face caked in make-up. Not in the ‘I’m-joining-the-circus’ kind of way, but the arty way that can create dips and curves in the face that aren’t normally there. She doesn’t look like herself, cheekbones too low, face seemingly too thin. She’d barely recognised herself in the mirror. The chances of people who haven’t seen her in nearly two years recognising her? Yeah, slim to none.

She still kinda hopes the do anyway.

As for Klaus, well, the extent of his disguise is a parka coat with the hood pulled up. That’ll fool absolutely no one.

“I’ve already had the occupants of the diner they’re heading to compelled,” Klaus admits, fingers tapping on the leather of the steering wheel, his lips pressing into a hard frown. Elena stares more than she needs to, running her tongue against her own, the muscle kissing up against her teeth in the process. “The town’s so called vampire hunters-” how ineffective they are is something that passes silently between them “- are off dealing with a little run in they had just two hours previously with a baby vampire who doesn’t know better, so there’ll be no idiots on vervain to interrupt. And dear Gretta has already sealed the diner so no one can leave until I give the say so,” Klaus muses, twisting the dial of the radio so that the volume dips low. Probably another barrier to stop Elijah from overhearing them.

Elena, however, is too busy considering Gretta. She knows the other woman is helping Klaus of her own accord, all because she fancies herself his favourite witch. She wouldn’t be wrong, at the moment. Does Elena feel threatened by her presence? No, not really. She knows if he had to throw one of them under a bus, it’d be Gretta on the road and there wouldn’t be a moment of hesitation from Klaus. She’s his doppelgänger. That beats out witch anyway of the week.

“Well, Little Love. Can I interest you in a spot of lunch?”

Mystic Grill hasn’t changed a bit during her time away from town. Still the same interior design, still the same patrons, if a little older. Matt’s working as a server now, Elena notes as she walks in with Klaus. Her hand finds his, forcibly wiggling her fingers into a loose hold, fingertips brushing up against his knuckles.

“At least have the decency to wipe the sweat from your palm next time, Love.”

Elena hums in acknowledgement, thankful for the layers of make-up that ensure her blushing cheeks won’t be seen, even if the pounding of her heart can probably heard quite clearly by her vampire company.

“Hang on, ‘next time’?” Elena repeats quietly, bumping her hip against Klaus’ leg, smile on her lips.

“Well, I am taking you out in New Orleans, am I not?”

“I’ll need a new dress,” she muses, eyes lingering on Elijah’s tense shoulders. Clearly, he’s heard Klaus’ voice now and, judging from the looks Bonnie and Jeremy are giving him, he’d cut himself off mid-sentence upon hearing them. The fact he’s not leapt out of his seat to punch his brother in the face is a surprise all in itself, given the asshole moves that Klaus has pulled off throughout the years.

“Budge up, Mate.”

“Please,” Elena tags on the end, smiling at Jeremy and god her heart hurts. Why is he hanging out with Elijah and Stefan? Bonnie she can understand, but the two vampires? She figured Dad’d have inducted him into the family business by now, but the fact he’s in the company of two vampires without trying to stab them both contradicts her personal predictions. Of course, she’d known he’d started hanging around the two; with her power, how could she not? But it’s a bit different, seeing it in person. And she doesn’t exactly get backstories about why every little thing happens.

“I- Ellie?” And Jeremy’s voice cracks but she’s not really in the mood to tease him about it. Instead, she forcibly tears herself from Klaus’ side to take a seat beside her baby brother, happily accepting the hug he engulfs her in, Bonnie’s arms joining a moment later. She only spares a single moment to recognise the other sibling reunion happening today is probably not going to end in hugs and squeezes like her own has.

* * *

Elijah wants to punch him. It’s clear in his eyes, the way his expression is completely neutral. The only reason Klaus isn’t already on his back (or being launched through the air towards the bar) is that his brother knows he doesn’t have all the facts. That’s the sole thing stopping him.

He chances a glance towards Elena, who remains tucked under her brother’s arm and is now shovelling French fries into her mouth, licking the granules of salt from her fingers. She introduces herself to Stefan Salvatore (and ah, now there’s a familiar face) with a wiggle of her fingers and a cheery smile. Her friend and brother seem to be a bit thrown off course by the green eyes, the ostensible blonde hair, the way the make-up has distorted her face. But they’re not yet questioning if she’ll be sticking around. Not yet. He probably has about ten minutes before the start pushing for Elena’s future plans and that’s when things could get… tricky, given the presence of the witch. Not that Klaus wouldn’t be able to extract his doppelgänger if necessary, but he’d prefer not to fight the witch before they make for New Orleans.

“Mikael is dead,” Klaus states, and it’s clearly not what Elijah was expecting him to open with. He takes the moment to slide into the booth, Elena forcibly pushing her brother and, thus, everyone else along in order to make room for him. Thighs brushing in the close proximity, Klaus ignores the way Elena throws one of her legs over his, taking note of the fact she’s already discarded her boots under the table top by the way her sock-clad foot brushes against his calf. “And I lied. Our siblings are not at the bottom of the ocean, just daggered.”

“Wait, ‘our’?” Stefan Salvatore repeats, as if he isn’t the very reason that Rebekah had been daggered. Memories or not, he’s the cause for Rebekah’s current punishment.

“Ah; did dear Elijah never mention we were brothers?”

Elena pinches him in the side for the taunt and Klaus swats lazily at her hand, catching her wrist and drawing it up to his mouth to plant a kiss on her knuckles. If he gently grazes his teeth against the skin in reprimand, then who’s capable of calling him out on it? No one, that’s who.

“Of course, Elijah has been labouring away under the illusion I’ve disposed of them. Far from it. Dealing with Mikael required a finesse that both Rebekah and Kol would interfere with. But, now thar Mikael is no longer an issue, we can reawaken our siblings and return to our home in New Orleans. Family once more.”

“Do you believe it will truly be that easy, Niklaus? That all will be forgiven? By both our siblings and myself?” Oh. Elijah’s upset. Unsurprising, but less than ideal. Especially with what is brewing within New Orleans.

Fingers dancing across the table top, Klaus lays his other hand across Elena’s knee, the one that’s thrown over his thigh. He gives the limb a squeeze. His doppelgänger is here, his hybrid army stands at his back. He’ll take back New Orleans and Marcellus will rue the day he took what was rightfully his.

“Does it matter? In the dawn of a new age, you’ll come, Elijah. You always do. Do not forget, it was you who aided me in the daggering of Kol. It is you who agreed that to leave Finn to rest would be the most beneficial outcome for the five of us, just until Mikael was dealt with. And, I assure you, had you been around for the circumstances that led to Rebekah’s daggering, then you would have agreed with me yet again.” Unbidden, his eyes slink over to inspect Stefan Salvatore and Elijah clearly recognise the look, clearly understands the other vampire at the table had something to do with all of this. Most likely, he guesses that Klaus has something to do with his missing memories of Chicago. “You’ve always been the most level-headed of us.”

It goes unspoken that, between himself, Rebekah and Kol, Elijah’d had no other option but to be level-headed, least he allowed them to lead themselves to their own ruin.

“I’m going with Klaus to New Orleans,” Elena suddenly states, pulling her head up from where it’d been resting on the young Gilbert’s shoulder, ignoring his desperate whisper of her nickname. “I’m safest with him. I mean, I can see the future, but Klaus’ the one who can usually act best on what information I get. It’s a mutually beneficial partnership; I wouldn’t have contacted him before, otherwise.” Ah, self-preservation. The oldest and truest of Petrova family traits.

“Ellie- do you have any idea how much Mum and Dad have missed you?” Young Gilbert asks and Klaus does his best not to roll his eyes. To a normal teen, that might have been enough to entice her back. But Elena’s a reborn spirit. She recalls her past life and will have undoubtedly gone without what she considers her parents before. He’s secure in the knowledge that she’ll be accompanying him.

Which is why he can confidentially turn to Elijah and raise a brow, a silent question. He knows his brother, knows his strengths. Knows his weaknesses. And family, his inane desire to prove there is something within Klaus worth saving will be the key factor in reeling his brother along to New Orleans beside him. The fact Klaus has their siblings stashed away, dragging their desiccated bodies along on his adventures, will only entice him in that little bit more.

“I could guess,” Elena murmurs, running a frustrated hand through her hair. She doesn’t recall it’s a wig until she’s already pulling on it, no doubt causing a great deal of pain with how many pins and clips are holding the blonde tresses in place.

She does look so much better as a brunette.

“That’s why I’m going to keep sending letters. Given the activities Dad was getting up to, and I do hope it is ‘was’ and not ‘is’, I’m not sure I can stand to be in the same room as him right now. Don’t get me wrong, he’s Dad and I still love him. But just because they’re vampires, that doesn’t mean they can’t feel pain, that they don’t experience things like we do. And I can’t advocate torture. Besides, once things have settled, you and Bonnie can always come visit us in New Orleans. Right?” She turns to him for confirmation, forcibly pulling Klaus from his staring match with Elijah to consider her request.

Having a weak human that’s attached to his doppelgänger around in New Orleans would be a hinderance. But the witch could be a great aid given the way New Orleans witches rely upon ancestral magic. And the Bennett line is strong; she’ll certainly be a help if needs must. Though Klaus is quite certain he can do this alone. He can do this with his hybrid army and his doppelgänger. With his family, should they make the right decision. And why wouldn’t they? He has gotten rid of Mikael, has made the world safer for them. Now, nothing can touch them.

“It would be rather hypocritical, Little Love, to invite my own brother and then bar yours. However, I would recommend holding off your visit until the supernatural dust has settled in the city.” Squeezing Elena’s knees when hr foot begins to trail distractingly high up his shin, Klaus turns his gaze on Elijah again, allowing the wolf to flash behind golden eyes.

“Well, brother? What’s say you?”

**Author's Note:**

> The AU in which the pairing is Klaus/Elena.


End file.
